A Special Place in Hell
by Scribbles-by-Kate
Summary: Particularly vicious and cruel people get their own special place in hell. Few people are more vicious and cruel than Zelena Mills, and the torment that awaits her is particularly appropriate. Just a short ficlet to express how much I want Zelena to suffer for what she's done. Features RumBelle.


I do not own _Once Upon a Time_: it's the property of Adam Horowitz, Eddy Kitsis, and ABC. All I'm doing is dreaming up an epic comeuppance for one of their vilest villains.

**A Special Place in Hell**

'It's a bit warm,' she commented, hovering in the doorway, reluctant to enter.

The man in the black suit smiled in a way that made her skin itch.

'I'd like to tell you that you'll get used to it, but, alas…' He left the rest of the sentence hanging. She'd thought he meant to soothe her, but now she realised that was far from his intent. He wanted her unsettled… That was usually her tactic. She felt strangely turned around, like she'd lost instead of won, and she couldn't remember what had happened to make her lose.

'You might as well come in,' he said, 'there's nowhere else for you to go.'

She shuddered despite the oppressive heat. A word sounded in her head: _ever_. Such finality. Something was creeping in her consciousness, a concept struggling to find expression. It told her that she absolutely did not want to enter that room, but when she drew back, it was as if a hand between her shoulder blades propelled her forward and she stumbled into the room.

Now that she was here, she knew that she could not leave. It was as if she had reached a destination that was utterly final, that there was no route on or back from. She had reached The End. Panic rose within her as the scorching heat seemed to wrap itself around her. The word _torment_ rose in her mind and she looked frantically to the man in the black suit for a reprieve.

He only smiled.

'Now do you understand, Zelena?' he asked.

'There must be—'

'No.' He cut her off abruptly.

'But I can—'

'No,' he said again, insistently.

'I'll do anything,' she begged.

He smiled coldly, as if he liked hearing those words, but then he shook his head.

'It's too late,' he said simply.

It was. She felt it now. It was as if his words took away her hope. There were no more chances.

She looked over at him. 'So, what awaits me here?' She tried not to sound frightened, but she was, and she felt small, powerless: she loathed that feeling.

'Oh, you'll see soon enough,' he said. He moved towards the door and left without looking back.

The door closed behind him and sealed itself so that it melted seamlessly into the wall. The room was dark and stifling hot, but there was no sound.

Maybe she was doomed to spend eternity in darkness and silence: that wouldn't be so bad.

But almost as quickly as the thought passed through her mind, there came a sound: a moan.

She looked around for the source, thinking maybe she wasn't alone after all. When her eyes couldn't see through the darkness, she reached out instead, but her hands only touched the four walls of her small room, more like a cell. It felt suddenly even more oppressive: she could stand in the middle and touch the walls on all four sides easily. So cramped, and so unbearably hot.

Another moan sounded and she whirled around.

'Who _is_ that?' she demanded irritably. The last thing she wanted was to listen to someone's moans of pain for all eternity.

She heard the sound again a few times and she began to realise that the pitch and tone of it sounded off. It wasn't agony or pain she was hearing: it was…pleasure. What on earth…or in hell…was going on?

As if in answer to her unspoken question, the wall on her right lit up and she turned to see what looked like a television or projector screen. A moment after it flickered to life, an image appeared on it: a figure she knew well.

Rumplestiltskin raised his head and looked out of the screen at her. She caught her breath at the expression on his face, his smile soft, his eyes full of love…she'd never seen him look at her like that before.

'Rumple,' she breathed, reaching out to touch his face, uncaring that he was only an image on a screen: it was better than nothing.

He spoke in answer, and her hand faltered in mid air when it wasn't her name he spoke, but…

'Belle.'

Zelena scowled. Of course: of course that look was for his perfect, proper little princess, not Zelena, never Zelena. Bitterness and hatred rose in her, and the room suddenly got even hotter.

She turned away, but the screen only switched to the other wall, and now _she_ came into view: the woman Rumple preferred over Zelena. How Zelena hated her, with her sweet smile and sweeter voice, and all her talk of True Love. Stupid, hateful little twit!

Zelena squirmed as the heat licked over her skin in the same way that her jealousy licked at her insides. Her skin was burning and she didn't know whether she would catch fire or combust from the inside. It _hurt_, and she realised that the heat in the room was in direct proportion to the rage and hatred and jealousy that ran through her veins with her blood.

Was this her punishment, then: to see Rumple happy without her, happy with _her_? Well, she would block it out, and she turned resolutely away.

The image followed, appearing on the opposite wall in time for her to see Rumple and his saccharine little twit reach for each other and embrace, and kiss passionately.

She turned again, but the image followed again, and now they were undressing each other eagerly, kissing and touching, and Zelena could hear their excitement in their gasps and moans, hear their affirmations of love and desire in their words.

Even more horrific were the flashes she saw of their lovemaking. Sometimes slow and tender, sometimes heated and energetic, it was obvious that they enjoyed each other, that they made each other happy. It made Zelena sick to see him give _her_ the kind of pleasure he had never wanted to bestow on Zelena. _She_ was his chosen one, not Zelena, never Zelena, and when she heard the little twit's moans of pleasure, she clapped her hands over her ears and screeched.

He was making her happy. He was worshipping her, and it wasn't _fair_. That should be Zelena, but it wasn't. He'd never wanted her like that. Why wasn't she good enough?

She screamed in rage. 'It's not real!'

There: that was better. It wasn't real, so it didn't matter. Except that she knew that that wasn't true. Part of her knew that it was real, that he was out in the world somewhere, loving _her_ in a way he would never love Zelena, who was here, doomed to burn in her rage and jealousy for all eternity, doomed to watch and hear the happiness and pleasure that she could never have.

She sank to the floor, miserable and angry, and when she heard their moans again, she screamed in rage once more, and the fire around her grew hotter still.

**The end. *Deep breath* I really don't consider myself a vindictive person, but Zelena just flips a switch in me, so I had to get that out. Thank you for reading.**


End file.
